Monday, June 23, 2014

For the Ones Who've Fallen Again

    I know. I'm supposed to say "get back up!"
    I will. Later. Hold on a minute.
    Right now I'm going to sit down here, right beside you. Is that okay? (Because let's be real, I'll fall again real soon anyways. That's just how this life goes).
    Wanna take my hand? No? Okay, want a hug?
    If yes, here's a tight squeeze and lots of love. If no, here's more love, heaps upon heaps of it, overflowing, full love so rich we'll never know a smidgen of it.
    And that's okay. We weren't created to know everything, not yet.
    I do know you.
    Not all of you, not much of you by far, but I know what it feels like to fall again. To go crawling back into your cage, to exercise when you shouldn't have, to commence writing a prayer and instead scribble I'm fat, I'm fat, I'm fat over and over. To curse yourself, to curse your sin, to whimper and curl up in your weariness and in your weakness. To kiss the mud because hey, you've missed the ground from up high.
    Friend, we all have weaknesses. Please don't hide yours. No matter how gaping, no matter how tiny.
    Don't hide.
    I love you. I do. And so does God, I promise. Love's enough to fill our holes.
    Put your hand over your heart. Feel that beat?
    You're alive, and alive is how you were meant to be from the dawn of time. There's a lot of death and shit in this world, and believe me I know sometimes death is life and vice versa, but this isn't one of those cases.   
    You're alive. You breathe. You're supposed to be here.
    Not in the dirt, you say. That's true.
    But you're supposed to be here on Earth: alive. You're already doing something right, at least. Even if you want to die, you're still alive right now, and alive is where you're supposed to be.
    I'm here, and there's a God here too, Who's refilling this Earth with life (although I don't often see this life, and you don't either, it's a hope I will cling to).
    Want to get up now?
    I think this is the part where I'm supposed to encourage you to get back up. You should, we both know it (perhaps begrudgingly).
     But first I'll offer you my hand - and my back if you're tired - and my tears for cleansing if you're dirty. If you're scared, I'll walk by your side, and if you're ashamed, I'll walk right in front of you.
    As long as we keep holding hands, friend. Because I love you, I like you, and here's to those of us who've fallen in the mud. Not because of our actions, but who we are - in our corest core, heaven's image.
Love you, friend.

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